


73 Problems (72 of Which Are Torpedoes)

by notfreyja, Straight_Outta_Hobbiton



Series: Doubt The Stars [14]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, But He Gets Better, JIM DIES, M/M, Star Trek: Into Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-14 04:53:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10529340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notfreyja/pseuds/notfreyja, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton/pseuds/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton
Summary: JIm's week is shitty. Let us count the ways:1) A white guy named Khan tried to kill them all.2) His movie quotes were used against him.3) He died for a bit there.4) He went skydiving again, and this time isn't wasn't fun.5) Major, and he means major property damage not seen since The Water Main Incident.6) And finally, his husband thought Jim would leave him to die in a Volcano.Seriously, what is wrong with people?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *drum roll please*
> 
> Freyja and Hobbit proudly present, Into Darkness: Doubt The Stars Style.
> 
> Enjoy. (Or cry? Either one works.)
> 
> *throws glitter and backs out of the room, a la Hamlet*
> 
> The playlist for this fic can be found [here.](https://8tracks.com/starhobbit/73-problems-72-of-which-are-torpedoes#smart_id=dj:16203706&play=1)
> 
> Follow [not-freyja](https://not-freyja.tumblr.com) and [straight-outta-hobbiton](https://straight-outta-hobbiton.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.

Jim Kirk has always been cursed with the world’s shortest attention span. He spent his entire life jumping from obsession to obsession, burning through a job or a hobby in a matter of hours, days, weeks at most.

 

But Captaining a Starship?

 

It’s been almost two years and it still hasn’t gotten old. He loves his job, his ship, and his crew. Hell, if it weren’t for the almost fortnightly near-death experiences, it would be damn near paradise.

 

Then again, if he _weren’t_ nearly killed every so often, they would probably get bored. At least, Bones would. The doctor would never admit it, but he loves torturing the crew with hyposprays. Especially JIm.

 

Okay, mostly Jim.

 

But Kirk can even deal with mandatory visits in the torture cave if it means he can keep doing this absolutely _amazing_  job.

 

JIm’s a proper adult now. He’s twenty-seven years old (god, he’s old), he has a career, a husband whom he loves (and actually has a healthy, communicative relationship with now).

 

Yeah, life couldn’t get any better. Nothing in the known universes could possible make this better.

 

And then comes the day that Spock (his _stupid, moronic, ever-an-idiot_ Vulcan husband) decides to go swimming in a volcano.


	2. Chapter 2

“We’re coming to get you.”

 

“Captain, regulation clearly states—” And he sounds so  _ calm,  _ if Jim were with him he’d punch him. Because Jim knows better. He’s inside Spock’s head, and there’s nothing  _ calm  _ about it.

 

“Damn the regulations! We’re not leaving you behind.” Jim knows his voice is slipping, that he’s starting to look as panicked as he feels, but he can’t help it. That’s his  _ bondmate  _ down there, about to die, and the fool is trying to quote ‘Fleet regulations.

 

Those would be stupid last words.

 

“Captain, I must insist—”

 

“Shut up.” Fuck. Now he has to get all unprofessional on duty. “Spock,  _ ashayam,  _ please. Just… Hang in there. I’m coming for you.”

 

“...Very well.”

 

They are having  _ words  _ later.

  
  


*.*

  
  


In the end, it all works out. Jim gets his husband back, (a little singed, but alive), the mission is essentially successful, and they get home with nary a scratch— well, except for Jim. He wasn’t expecting that pipe to be there, obviously, otherwise he wouldn’t have tripped over it, would he have, Bones?

 

Anyway, everything’s alright. Everything’s fantastic.

 

Until he gets a message from Pike a week later.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Space Dad:

Commander Spock’s report of the events on Nibiru was never received.

 

Jim:

That’s odd. It’s not like him, to miss a report.

I’ll have a word with him, make sure he sends it along.

 

Space Dad:

No need, your report was more than sufficient for Starfleet records.

 

Jim:

You sure, Admiral?

 

Space Dad:

There is no war in Ba Sing Se, Captain.

 

Jim:

Oh. Got it.

I’m definitely talking to him now.

 

Space Dad:

No problem, kid.

And change my name in your damn comm.

 

Jim:

I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir.

 

Space Dad:

Sure you don’t.

  
  


*.*

 

That night, when Spock gets back from his daily check-ups on the labs, he looks more nervous than JIm has ever seen him. Apparently his fury spiked hard enough that it frightened his bondmate.

 

Huh.

 

Kirk feels guilt for all of a millisecond. “What the  _ hell  _ were you thinking?”

 

Spock’s eyes go almost imperceptibly wider. So sight that, had JIm not been accustomed to reading his expressions, he would have missed it. “James, I—”

 

“No. I’m speaking as your Captain right now, not your bondmate. Understood?”

 

The Vulcan gulps, straightens, and falls into parade rest. Jim has him on the ropes.

 

“I know we made a deal when we shipped out, that in our quarters we’d be just  _ us,  _ but… this is a private conversation between the Captain and his First, understood?”

 

“Yes, Captain.” 

 

“Good.” JIm runs a hand through his hair. He hates this, talking business at home. But his damned idiot husband almost cost him his ship. “Your report of the events on Nibiru were not submitted to Command. Admiral Pike bounced it. Do you know why?”

 

Spock’s eyebrow quirks slightly. “I must admit that I do not.” His posture has relaxed slightly, now that he knows this conversation isn’t about something world-shattering. Which is good. Jim hates being the bad cop.

 

“Well, Commander, the Admiral did us a favor. Can you imagine if the Captain and the First Officer of a Starship were to submit two entirely different accounts of the same mission?”

 

His eyes widen. Ladies and gentleman, he finally gets the picture. “I imagine at least one of us would be demoted or reassigned. Possibly both.”

 

“Right. And we don’t want that, do we Mr. Spock?”

 

“Of course not, Captain.”

 

“ _ Exactly.  _ So from this moment on, we are going to sit down with both of our mission reports and compare notes before submission. Agreed?”

 

“Perfectly acceptable, sir.”

 

Jim can feel the tension bleed out of his body. “Awesome. Enough shop, then. How was your day?”

 

Spock gives him the slightest roll of his eyes. “Passably pleasant, James.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


Earth is pretty much the same as it always is— bright, bustling, and irrefutably  _ boring _ after the first six hours or so. Jim was not built for planet life. He had his fill of it between the ages of twelve and twenty-five. He has his own goddamn spaceship, now. This planetside stuff’s for the birds when you  _ literally _ own a spaceship.

 

(Well, Starfleet owns it, but, semantics. The  _ Enterprise _ is Jim’s girl and he will fight anybody who says otherwise. Except for maybe Scotty. She’s Scotty’s ship, too.)

 

Inevitably, he finds himself in a bar, alone. Bones is busy being an important, groundbreaking medical professional, and Spock’s doing something involving T’Pring and her apparent self-study on the effects of marijuana on the Vulcan system. It’s all very fascinating, Jim’s sure, but, well, he doesn’t really care at the moment. There’s an itch in his skin, like one of those fucked up bugs from the  _ Mummy, _ those nasty scarabs that eat people from the inside out? Yeah, that’s happening, except instead of beetles it’s… it’s something else.

 

Rolling his glass absently against the bar, he wonders how much trouble he’ll get into with the ‘fleet if he gets into an teensy little bar fight three steps off the campus. Technically, he’s off duty, and he is off campus… but he’s still in uniform, damn. He has to start thinking ahead about these sorts of things.

 

There’s the sound of someone pointedly clearing their throat behind him, and he turns to see… nobody.

 

“Down here, Kirk.”

 

That will never not be funny, Jim thinks as he meets Chris’ eyes. Yeah, the wheelchair business is a kinda fucked up reminder that his Space Dad was horribly tortured by a terrorist, but at last, Jim gets to live out the dream he’s held so close to his heart all these years— being taller than somebody other than his mother.

 

Starvation during key physical development can be a bitch, sometimes.

 

“Hey, Cap— Admiral,” he greets, knocking on the bar for two new glasses and dropping a few credits before relocating to a table Chris can actually see over the edge of. “What’s goin’ on?”

 

Chris takes the drink with a nod of thanks.

 

“Nothing too important,” he says. “You talk to your First Officer?”

 

“I did,” Jim says. “There is no war within the walls.”

 

“Good. It would be problematic, otherwise.”

 

“Tell me about it.”

 

They sit quietly for a moment, sipping their drinks and contemplating… well, Jim doesn’t know what Chris is contemplating, but based on slightly irritated wrinkle between his eyebrows, it could really be anything. Budget cuts, Jim, politics, Number One, this year’s recruits, Jim… anything, really.

 

“How’re the twins?” Jim asks. “I haven’t gotten a chance to see them since we got back.”

 

“Because you’re clearly so busy considering which guy you’re going to irritate into punching you in the jaw,” Chris says, smirking. “They’re doing fine. At the Archer School, for daycare.”

 

“That sounds nice,” Jim says. “Are they raising hell?”

 

Pike sighs. 

 

“Honestly? Most of the volunteers are terrified of them,” he says. “If it weren’t for Jo… McCoy’s kid. You know she’s volunteering? On top of a full course load.”

 

“I mighta heard something.” McCoy hadn’t stopped bragging about his awesome kid for like, six days— which Jim doesn’t mind. Jo’s pretty awesome.

 

Chris huffs a laugh.

 

“I’m sure you have,” he agrees. “Len strikes me as quite the doting father.”

 

“Jo’s probably lucky he wasn’t around when she started dating,” Jim says. “Bones would have blown her suitors to bits. Did you know he has a gun? Like, a bonafide, it-need-gunpowder antique gun. He could kill people, Chris.”

 

“Well, he is from Georgia.” Chris sets down his glass. “I know that look on your face, Jim.”

 

“Look? What look?”

 

“The ‘I Need Some Space’ look.” Chris arches an eyebrow. “I should know. We used to pass out t-shirts to new Captains when I was your age.”

 

“That’s fantastic! ...where can I get one of those? Asking for a friend.”

 

“Stay on target.”

 

Jim sighs, slumping in his chair.

 

“How can you stand it?” he asks. “Every second gets slower and slower the longer I’m on Earth. I have a  _ ship, _ Space Dad. I want to be on my ship.”

 

“There is a very short list of people who are allowed to call me ‘Dad’ to my face and you are not on it,” Chris says dryly. “As for the question… well, Jim. I have a job, Jim, and children. And a homicidal wife that occasionally needs the reminder that it isn’t acceptable to just disappear and return with the scalps of the men stupid enough to cross her.”

 

A monotone female voice cuts through the din of the bar. “Energetic sex also takes up a good portion of his life. I like to think that helps keep us both sane.”

 

“Jesus Christ!” Chris startles as presumably cold fingers press against the back of his neck.

 

“Hey, Number One.” Jim presses into her side when she moves around the table to run her fingers through his hair.

 

“Hello, Jim.” Number One steps back. “You look bored.”

 

“I am  _ so _ bored.”

 

On cue, all three of their comms chirp. Chris glances at the message.

 

“Looks like you won’t be bored for long,” he says, tucking his comm back into his pocket. “Emergency meeting. Full brass.”

 

Jim arches an eyebrow.

 

“Well, shit.”


	3. Chapter 3

The ride over to Command is…  _ interesting  _ to say the least. Chris, being an Admiral, was absorbed in his PADD, trying to get any information he could about the subject of the meeting. But there was nothing. Nothing in the official bulletins, interpersonal communications, or civilian news.

 

Total media blackout.

 

In all his years in Starfleet, Christopher has never seen a situation like this one, except for once. His first long-term assignment, the USS Kelvin.

 

This is going to be a  _ shitty _ day.

  
  


*.*

  
  


On the other hand, Jim is adamantly refusing to acknowledge the situation until the actual meeting, and Number One seems prone to humor him.

 

“So there were these little fluff balls, called tribbles, right? And they just kept  _ multiplying,  _ One! And we couldn’t figure out why at first. No matter what me did, there were just always  _ more of them! _ ” He sniffs. “They kept falling from the ceiling and nailing me in the head. How? No idea. But those little fuckers apparently have  _ fantastic _ aim.”

 

Her head tilts. “Going by your safe return, is it fair of me to assume your ship was not entirely overrun?”

 

Jim laughs, leaning into her side. “Not going to lie, it was close.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


Jim runs into his husband on the pavement outside of the building. “Hey, Spock.” Their fingers brush together briefly.

 

Spock nods at Number One and Chris. “I am pleased to see that you are well, Admiral. Commander.”

 

Number One quirks a smile in response. “We’ll see you upstairs, boys.”

 

She offers a wave, which Kirk returns, and grabs the handles of her husband’s chair, wheeling him into the building before he could protest.

 

Jim chuckles. “She’s not subtle.”

 

Spock purses his lips like he wants to smile.

 

“I believe she does not feel that she needs to be,” he says. “She has informed me that she was aware of our mutual attraction several years before we were aware of it ourselves.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

Spock nods.

 

“She, along with Winona, my own Mother, and Sybok, often exchanged messages on the subject,” he says. “Sybok was collecting data on our bonded state, and she was happy to help.”

 

“That’s…” Jim shakes his head. “Not important. Do you know what’s going on?”

 

“Negative. Only that whatever it is, it requires the attention of all available captains and the Admiralty.”

 

Jim sighs.

 

“Alright. Let’s get going, then.”

  
  


*.*

 

They’re the last to arrive. All seats are taken except for two with their backs to the large, floor-to-ceiling windows. Jim takes his seat and nods at Pike, who’s seated directly across from him before turning his attention to the man at the head of the table.

 

Admiral Alexander Marcus, if JIm remembers correctly. Kirk nonchalantly presses the tip of his pinky to Spock’s wrist. While he can communicate telepathically with his bondmate without contact, it takes much more concentration. And Jim needs to focus here.

 

_ This isn’t good,  _ he thinks.

 

_ No, James. It is not. _

 

Jim goes to reply, but before he can, Marcus begins to speak.

 

“By now some of you have heard what happened in London.” PADDs are placed in front of each seat, which now come to life with images of destruction and chaos.  “The target was a Starfleet data archive, now it’s a damn hole in the ground. Forty two men and women are dead.”

 

And Jim— God, his perspective is so badly fucked on things like this that he catches himself thinking how  _ small _ that death toll is.

 

“One hour ago I received a message from a Starfleet officer who confessed to carrying out this attack,” the Admiral continues on as the images on their screens shift to a close up of a tall, pale man with harsh cheekbones. “But he was being forced to do it by this man: Commander John Harrison. He’s one of our own, and he is the man responsible for this act of savagery. For reasons unknown John Harrison has just declared a one man war against Starfleet. And under no circumstances are we to allow this man to escape Federation space. You here represent the senior Command of all the vessels in the region, and in the name of those we lost, you will run this bastard down. This is a man-hunt, pure and simple, so let’s get to work.”

 

The room moves into a controlled flurry of little motions, hands moving over PADDs, reading data, taking notes. Number One and Spock sit as twin statues, eyes fixed unblinkingly on Marcus.

 

“Earth’s perimeter sensors have not detected any warp signatures leaving the system, so we know he can’t be far. You will park your ships in a blockade formation then deploy search vehicles and landing parties to run down every lead. This man has shown his willingness to kill innocent people, so the rules of engagement are simple. If you come across this man and fear for your life, or the lives of those nearby, you are authorized to use deadly force on sight…”

 

Kirk tunes him out, trusting Spock to fill him in on all of the relevant details later, and turns his full attention to the screen in front of him.

 

The image isn’t the worst thing Jim’s ever seen— not by a long shot— but it’s still not pretty. The street depicted in the freeze frame is chaos. People screaming, running, bleeding, crying. He can see the charred remains of what was probably once a human being at some point a few feet from the smoking crater. He feels his mind start to wander, down paths he’s tried for years to bury. Images are called to mind, of other burned bodies. Other city streets, thrown into pandemonium flashes before his eyes.

 

_ Focus, t’hy’la.  _ Spock’s thoughts cutting through the fog, drawing him back to reality.

 

_ Lesek.  _ Jim goes back to taking in the real detail in the holo. “What’s in the bag?”

 

Spock tilts his head to get a better view of Jim’s PADD screen. “I do not know.”

 

Jim “It doesn’t seem odd to you that he targeted an archive that’s like bombing a library?”

 

Before the Vulcan can respond, Marcus halts his his speech to address them directly. “Kirk? Everything okay there?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

He sighs heavily, and the next time he speaks, his voice is laden with irritation. “You got something to say Kirk, say it. Tomorrow is too late.”

 

Jim “I’m fine sir, my apologies.”

 

“Spit it out, son, don’t be shy.”

 

“It- just…” JIm chews on his lip for a moment as he collects his thoughts. “Why the archive? All that information is public record. If he really wanted to damage Starfleet, this could just be the beginning.”

 

He has the full attention of the room now.

 

“Beginning of what, Mr. Kirk?”

 

All the pieces start falling into place as Jim speaks. “In the event of an attack, protocol mandates that Starfleet COmmand gathers Captains and First Officers at HQ. RIght here. In this room…”

 

He can feel the moment Spock gets it, almost a moment too late as a low hum begins to fill the air. JIm locks eyes with Spock as the lights of the jump ship pierce through the glass behind them, catching in the corner of his eyes.

 

_ “CLEAR THE ROOM!”  _

  
It’s less than a heartbeat after Jim’s shout that the glass shatters and the meeting hall is filled with fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who lives? Who dies?
> 
> Who knows?


	4. Chapter 4

The thing about Command Head Quarters, is that the only people authorized to be armed on the premises are official building security. And seeing that this was a top secret meeting of only the high Command, there were no members of ‘Fleet security in the room when the shooting started.

 

Assuming absolutely _stellar_ response time, no one with so much as a baton will show up for at least forty five seconds.

 

And then it will take time to asses, regroup, and actually procure the equipment needed to take down an actively firing ship.

 

All in all, it could take up to five minutes for Security to take the shooter down.

 

In five minutes, they could all be dead.

 

This all runs through Jim’s head in an instant, and the moment it’s all clicked together, he’s on his feet. He stands to full height, and runs through the room, trusting on nothing more than luck to get him to the door alive.

 

 _Faster, Captain._ Spock’s mental voice has reverted into it’s on-duty tone. Which is good. Jim doesn’t know if he could handle his husband trying to talk to him right now. His First Officer, though? That’s a blessing. _If you do not increase your speed by at least .014%, your probability of being hit increases by at an approximate factor of three._

 

Shit, he’s estimating. Definitely still panicking then, but doing his best not to show it. _Thanks, Spock._ Jim picks up his pace, now full on sprinting for the hall. _Don’t get shot._

 

_I shall endeavour not to, James._

  


*.*

  


When fire rained into the meeting room, Number One did not think. She did not stop and assess the situation. She did not apply logic, or rationale. No, when the shooting started, Number One just _moved._

 

In one fluid motion born of a childhood of ballet, she rose from her seat, pivoted towards Christopher, and threw her full body weight at him. The spring of her muscles and the inertia of her mass being enough to spill her husband out of his chair and flat onto the floor. But the movement was not yet complete. She pulled up from where she landed, rolled quickly to lie along side him, her body blocking the path between him and the window, and laid half on top of him.

 

The entire dance took under two seconds. Motherhood has made her slow.

 

“What the fuck are you doing, woman?” Christopher’s voice is a mixture of fear and annoyance. Normally, she likes that tone.

 

“Forcing you to take cover.” At his affronted look, she continues, “While you still possess many admirable skills, without the use of your legs, you are quite useless in this fight. And I do not wish to be a single mother.”

 

And Chris, the damn fool, he has the audacity to laugh. To _laugh,_ in a situation like this, where he’s a sitting duck, and she’s helpless to leave him. “Useless, huh?”

 

“Not entirely.” Number One quirks a smile. “You still have your personality.”

 

“Oh really?” He’s trying to look offended, but it isn’t working, not on her. She knows him too well.

 

“And a functional penis,” she deadpans.

 

That triggers a nearly hysterical bolt of laughter, which she smiles at. They look like crazy people, Pike and her, lying on the floor of an HQ meeting room, practically cuddling and hysterically laughing through a terrorist attack.

 

She fucking loves this man.

 

Number One sees James bolt past her, looking entirely like the man on a mission that he usually is, and she feels herself relax.

 

“The situation will resolve itself momentarily,” she informs Christopher, cutting off his laughter.

 

“Oh?”

 

Number One nods serenely. “The kid is handling it.”

 

“Jimmy?”

 

“Jimmy.”

 

Chris offers her another smile. “Thank god for Jimmy.”

 

Number One goes to respond but before she can, a bolt of fire passes through her. She sees fleck of blood spatter Christopher’s jacket. Her blood. She’s been _shot._ That bastard in the jump ship _shot her._

 

“One?” Christopher’s voice is panicking in that Human way of his, but it’s starting to sound far away. “Number One? Sweetheart, come on.”

 

She wants to answer him. She tries, but her mouth does not obey.

 

“It’s just— just a little a little phaser wound.”

 

He is frightened. Properly frightened, and she finds she can’t do anything to calm him.

 

“Number One!?”

  


*.*

  


When Jim gets into the hallway, he practically trips over the body of a Security member, shot down before they could even get into the room.

 

_Hey, Spock? I have an idea._

 

He feels his bondmate mull it over for a heartbeat. _Theoretically, that should work._

 

Jim grabs the phaser from the dead man’s hands and gets to it.

  


*.*

  


The ship goes down, a spiral of smoke and flame. But before the crash, Jim sees Harrison dematerialize into a transporter beam. Jim doesn’t know where that bastard is going, but if he hurt any of his family…

 

Screw Starfleet. Jim will run him down himself.

 

_James._

 

Speaking of family. _Yeah, Spock?_

 

_Return immediately._

 

Jim doesn’t know what happened. But going by his husband’s tone, it isn’t good. It isn’t good at all.

  


*.*

  


When Jim gets back to the meeting room, his eyes are darting all over the floor. He can see a few dead, but none of them are _his,_ none so far, but the panic is building, and all he can think of is Spock, and Pike, and… and…

 

“Number One!”

 

Jim slides to his knees beside Spock. She’s bleeding, breathing shallow. “Hey, One, no. Don’t do this.”

 

Chris has himself propped up on one arm, the other hand holding one of hers in a vice grip. “Medical’s on their way, sweetheart. Just hang on a little longer, okay? Just a little longer...”

 

But she’s not responsive and her eyes are glazing over. Jim’s face feels oddly hot. Spock’s hand is pinching his elbow, the other pressing his jacket over her wound. Blood is blossoming around his fingers, staining the jacket and spreading.

 

“One, please…”

 

There is no answer. Slowly, she goes limp in their arms, indifferent to the Medical staff that pours into the room.

 

A sob wrenches itself from Jim’s chest. Pike is no better, curling over her as Spock pulls his hands away.

 

John Harrison will _suffer._

  


*.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all begged for me not to kill PIke. Wish granted.


	5. Chapter 5

The next hour or so passes in a blur. Medical staff carts away the injured at an impressive speed, the dead are carried away at a more leisurely pace. Spock helps Pike back into his chair, and the three of them leave with the Medics taking Number One.

 

Jim doesn’t know if she’s alive or dead. He’s sure he’s been told, but… nothing’s getting through. It’s like he’s not actually there. Just a shadow floating through the hall.

 

He blinks, and they’re in the hospital waiting room. Spock is sitting next to Chris a few feet away, neither talking. But Jim, he’s… standing? Apparently? Huh.

 

The lights are wrong. Everything in here is wrong. In fact, James is starting to believe that this may all be, in fact, a very bad dream. At least his subconscious is finally starting to get creative with his nightmares rather than just replaying Tarsus IV’s greatest hits.

 

_ This is real, James.  _ Spock’s voice, in his mind, cutting through the fog. Thank god for Spock.

 

_ Adun, I don’t… I don’t feel real. _

 

_ You are in shock, Jim. _

 

_ Oh. Makes sense. _

 

_ Indeed. _

  
  


*.*

  
  


Slowly, time returns to it’s proper speed. Jim’s not exactly sure what hour it is when he gets back to himself, or what’s been going on in his mental absence. But thanks to Spock, he knows what hasn’t happened.

 

No one has come out to tell Chris that his wife is dead. Which means there’s hope. Then again, they haven’t gotten any updates on her condition either, which isn’t good.

 

It doesn’t take long of this purgatory for JIm to get bored enough to check his comm. Which is where he finds the order summoning him to Admiral Marcus’ office. Timestamped for an hour ago.

 

_ Shit.  _ “Chris, I’m sorry, I have orders. I got to go.”

 

Pike offers him a weak smile. “It’s okay, kid. I’ll… I’ll call you when she wakes up.”

 

Jim turns to run off, but stops, spins on his heel, and throws himself at Pike in a crushing hug. Before the Admiral can respond, Jim’s off, practically sprinting out of the waiting room doors.

 

Spock will tell him, either way.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Jim burst into Marcus’ office so hard he nearly breaks the door.

 

“Kirk, you’re late. Take a seat.”

 

“No thank you, sir.” At the Admiral’s shocked expression, he continues. “You obviously called me in here to convince me of something, something a little… less than legal, shall we say?” Jim gives a smile that’s all teeth and no humor. “Let me spare us both some time, sir.”

 

Marcus looks intrigued. “And how is that, son?”

 

“I don’t need any convincing. That bastard Harrison may have just killed the woman who raised me. I’ll kill him myself, sir. If those are the orders.”

 

The Admiral’s curiosity morphs into pleasure. “They are, Captain. Let me walk you through the plan, then.”

 

“Thank you, sir.” Jim takes the seat in front of Marcus’ desk, and tries to ignore the feeling of absolute  _ wrongness  _ in his gut as the plan is laid out.

  
  


*.*

  
  


The general gist of it is this: Jim will recall his crew, take his ship to the edge of the Neutral Zone, fire seventy-two experimental torpedoes at the Klingon home world, then somehow return in one piece without starting a war.

 

Sounds like a  _ great plan,  _ right?

 

But Jim’s not calm enough to care. He gives the order.

  
  


*.*

  
  


When Carol Marcus sees the order go out for the Enterprise, see doesn’t quite know what it means, but she knows it can’t be good. And that whatever it is, it has to do with her father’s secret project. That's when she gets what is either the greatest or the worst idea she has ever had.

 

A brief trip to her father’s office, a few lines of code, and her last name is changed in Starfleet databases, and she’s been transferred to the USS Enterprise.

 

She returns to her house, packs her bags, and writes a note for her son.

 

_ David, _

_ I can’t explain right now, but Mommy has to go on a last-minute mission. It’s a bit of an emergency. I’ll comm you when I can, and don’t worry, I should be back in a week at the most. Do your homework, and be in bed by nine. _

_ Love you, Sweetheart. _

_ Mom _

 

Time to go.

  
  


*.*

  
  


By complete coincidence, Carol ends up on the same shuttle up as Captain Kirk himself. She has a moment of blinding terror that he’ll remember her, that her little undercover stint will be over long before it even properly begins.

 

But the introduction goes off without a hitch. Jim doesn’t question her credentials, her identity, not even her sudden transfer to his ship.

 

Not going to lie, she’s a little hurt.

 

Sure they were drunk and eighteen, but… he  _ is  _ the father of her child.

 

It hurts a little that there’s not even a hint of recognition in his pretty blue eyes.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Chris is easy to spot, poker straight in his special chair and drab in Admiralty grays. He doesn’t seem to notice Winona until she drags over a chair and sits beside him.

 

“So, who’s dead?”

 

Chris almost laughs. It comes out more like a sob.

 

“Jesus Christ, Winona, you asshole.” Chris sighs. “It’s Number One.”

 

“Oh, bummer.” she pats him a little too hard on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Chris. She’ll get better.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“I know everything, Christopher Marian Pike.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“But you laughed.”

 

Chris did, so he supposes he lost this round.

 

“How’s the new assignment?” he asks.

 

Winona blinks, the picture of doe-eyed innocence that Chris has long since associated with water mains and things that shouldn’t go in them.

 

“What assignment, Chris?”

 

He snorts and looks at his hands.

 

“Right,” he says. “You need something, Winona?”

 

“Right now? Not really. But in like, three minutes, I’m really going to need you to focus.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really.” Winona tugs her PADD free of her backpack. “So, I’m giving you three more minutes to mope as if Number One isn’t gonna get up in an hour and kick everyone’s ass, and then I need your full, undivided attention.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For a man named John Harrison, and his butt buddy Alex Marcus.”

 

“Jesus Christ, woman,  _ language. _ ”

 

Winona shoots him the patented Kirk Glare™. “This is serious, Admiral. And besides, aren’t you Catholics not supposed to say things like that?”

 

One of these days, Chris might kill this woman. “Why me? If this has to do with… your  _ work,  _ why come to me?”

 

“Because I needed an Admiral, dear. And Jimmy likes you.”

 

“Bullshit. What’s really going on?”

 

Winona sighs, and gives him the look Chris has only seen used previously on Jim eating something he knows he’s allergic to. “You didn’t hear me? Chris, just take the damn file. I have to be across the system by the time this blows open, or I won’t have a life anymore, let alone an exciting job that gives you nightmares.”

 

And with that, she dumps the PADD in his lap and just… walks away.

 

If Number One gets better, Chris is sending her after the Kirks. All of them.

  
He opens the PADD and starts to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If that last scene didn't make it obvious, Winona works for Section 31. Questions? Concerns? Hit us up:[not-freyja](https://not-freyja.tumblr.com) and [straight-outta-hobbiton](https://straight-outta-hobbiton.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.
> 
> (PS. While I may have written every death scene, Hobbit was the one who decided to kill I-Chaya. So who's the real evil one?  
> -Freyja)


	6. Chapter 6

Jim has the rotten luck to run into Bones on the way to the shuttle. A grumpier than usual,  _ worried  _ Bones, who's harassing him about things like his health, and being in fire-fights, and his mental state. 

 

“Honestly, Bones. I'm fine, okay?”

 

Somehow, Leonard’s worried expression gets even worse. “The hell you are! Jim, you—”

 

“I’m fine.” And this time it’s an order, and for once, Bones drops the subject of Jim’s health. Thank God.

 

Jim finds Spock on the shuttle, and sits a space away from him, giving Bones the choice to either sit  _ between  _ them (something the three of them swore to never let happen again), or sit in a different row. Bones huffs, but takes the row behind the pair of them.

 

Why can’t Bones sit between them? Well, lots of reasons.

 

According to the Doctor, Jim and Spock’s PDA is disgusting, he doesn’t like Jim leaning over him to kiss his hobgoblin, and being in the middle of the Captain and First Officer debating mission parameters is never a good idea. Even if they’re doing it silently in their heads.  _ Especially  _ if it’s happening in their heads.

 

Jim won’t let Bones sit between him and Spock anymore because he doesn’t like it when Bones uses his husband as an accomplice to surprise check-ups.

 

And Spock, well… Spock has been grabbed too many times by a space-phobic Leonard upon take-off to ever let it happen again. On one particularly memorable occasion, Bones threw up on him. Which made Jim sympathetically  vomit. Also on Spock. Apparently they were hung over. On duty. Again.

 

So yeah, Bones can  _ never  _ sit between them on the shuttle. Ever.

 

“Hey, Spock.”

 

“Hello, James.”

 

They sit in silence for a moment as a scope worms it’s way between the gaps in the seats behind them and hovers over Jim’s face. Bones really needs to give this a rest. For five minutes. Choosing to ignore the fact that his bondmate is being harassed by a grumpy CMO, Spock just blurts, “As your First Officer, I feel I must protest the parameters of our mission.”

 

Jim sighs. “Of course you do.”

 

“There is no Starfleet regulation that condemns a man to die without a trial, something you and Admiral Marcus are forgetting.”

 

And Jim  _ knows  _ this, he  _ knows _ , but he’s nothing but fury and rage at the moment and rational thought isn’t really getting through.

 

“Also, preemptively firing torpedoes at the Klingon homeworld—”

 

“We’re firing torpedoes at the  _ Klingons?”  _ Bones interjects, terror punctuating every word.

 

Shit. Jim loves the Doctor, but he can be a bit of a gossip— no, scratch that, he isn’t a gossip. He’s a mutterer. A loud mutterer. A shouter to himself. A shouter to himself who happens to often do so in public spaces. “No, we’re  _ aiming  _ torpedoes at the planet. We aren’t attacking any Klingons, okay?”

 

“If you say so, Captain.” The scope switches to some other special just-for-Jim torture device.

 

“Bones, get that  _ thing  _ off my face. Spock, we’ll finish this later.”

 

“Captain Kirk?” A strange female voice cuts off Spock’s reply and the three of them look up to see an objectively pretty, but unassuming human woman, roughly Jim’s age, with medium length blond hair. “Science Officer Wallace, I’ve been assigned to the Enterprise by Admiral Marcus. These are my transfer orders.”

 

Jim takes the offered PADD. “Dr. Carol Wallace, doctorate in applied physics, specialized in advanced weaponry.”

 

“Impressive credentials,” Spock notes, offering a polite nod.

 

“Thank you.” Carol’s smile becomes a little less stressed. Jim gets it. Spock stresses the new people just by dint of being himself.

 

“Have a seat, Doctor.” Jim quickly slides over to sit beside his husband, gesture for her to take the aisle seat.

 

She does so with a slight laugh, posture going almost entire relaxed. “Thank you, Captain.”

 

“Welcome aboard.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


Jim enters the shuttle bay to the usual pre-mission chaos as supplies are loaded, crew moves to their quarters or stations, and engineering makes it’s last minute checks. Scotty is shouting at the top of his lungs, which is normal. But this time it’s directed not at thin air, but at a particular, official-looking man chasing him around the bay with a PADD.

 

“...I’m not signing anything! Captain!”

 

Here it goes. “Is there a problem, Mr. Scott?”

 

“Aye, sir. I was just explaining to this gentleman that I cannae authorize any weapons aboard this ship without know what’s  _ inside them. _ ”

 

“Mr. Scott raises yet another point that-”

 

“— Report to the bridge.” Jim knows that Spock thinks he’s helping he really does. But at the moment? Not helpful.  _ We’ll talk later. _

 

_ Very well, Captain. _

 

Spock goes, and Jim turns his attention back to Scotty’s latest crises. “Mr. Scott, I understand your concern, but we need these torpedoes onboard.”

 

“Due respect sir, but Photon Torpedoes run on fuel and I cannae detect the type of full that’s in the compartments because it’s  _ shielded!  _ And I asked for the specifications, and he said:”

 

Scotty jerks his thumb at the man, who supplies, “It’s classified.”

 

“It’s classified! So I said, ‘no specs,  _ no signature! _ ’”

 

“Captain?” Sulu’s voice, from somewhere above them. Jim looks up to see him on a catwalk. “Flight checks complete, sir.”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Sulu.” At least someone on his staff is actually just doing their job and not trying to make Jim’s shitty day even worse.

 

“Now, excuse me, sir. I have a warp core to prime.” Considering the matter settled, Scotty continues on his way.

 

“Jim,” And there goes Bones, trying to continue his rant from earlier. “Your vitals are way off.”

 

“Report to the Medbay.” Bones rolls his eyes, but thankfully goes without further complaint. That means Jim is free to chase down his Chief Engineer. “Scotty! I need you to approve those weapons!”

 

And Scotty, bless him, doesn’t even slow down in his work, just starts ranting as he goes. “Do you know what this is, Captain?”

 

“I don’t have time for a lecture, Scotty!”

 

“Do you know what this is?”

 

Jim sighs. “It’s a warp core.”

 

“It’s a radioactive catastrophe waiting to happen. A sudden shift in magnetic output, say… firing one or more of  _ six dozen torpedoes _ with an unknown payload could set off a chain reaction that could kill  _ every _ living thing on this ship. Letting those torpedoes on board the Enterprise is the last straw!”

 

And yeah, Jim knows all of this, but Scotty is being a little dramatic about it. “What was the first straw?”

 

“What was the— there are plenty of straws. What about Starfleet confiscating my transwarp equation? And now some madman’s using it to hop across the galaxy. Where’d you think he got it from?”

 

“We have our orders, Scotty!”

 

“That’s what scares me.” The man’s voice goes from angry to sad halfway through the sentence. “This is clearly a military operation. Is that what we are now? Because I thought we were explorers.”

 

Scotty’s sounding near desperate now. Like he’s waiting for Jim to call the whole mission off. To announce that this was all just some cruel joke and that things are going to go back to normal staring three seconds from now. But Jim can’t do that. Something is definitely fishy about this whole set-up, sure. But he can’t exactly go disobeying direct orders from an Admiral when they haven’t even left spacedock, going off of nothing more than the mechanical concerns of a man most people consider to be a little more than insane.

 

“Sign for the torpedoes. That’s an order.”  _ Please, Scotty. _

 

“Right, well, you leave me no choice but to resign my duties.”

 

“Oh, come on, Scotty.”

 

“You’re giving me no choice, sir!”

 

“You’re not giving me much of a choice!” And he really isn’t. Jim is stuck between a rock and a hard place here, and he’s quickly running out of patience.

 

“I can’t just stand by here and—”

 

“— can you just make an exception and sign—”

 

“—Do you accept my resignation or not?”

 

“I do!” The words leave a sour taste in his mouth. “You are relieved Mr. Scott.” The instant it happens, Jim wants to take it back, but he can’t. He needs to follow these orders, and Scotty won’t let him, and sure, maybe he wasn’t told no enough as a child, but that’s beside the point.

 

And Scotty… well, he looks like someone just shot his dog. And it was Jim.  _ Jim  _ did that, to a person who was not only one of the most valued members of his crew, but one of his best friends. “Jim, for the love of god, do not use those torpedoes.”

 

And then he just turns and walks away. And Keenser, the little bastard, goes with him. Which was technically mutiny seeing as he didn’t have Jim’s permission, but, hey, they’re all having a rough day. Jim’ll let it slide.

 

When all this is over, Jim better be able to get those two back.

  
For now, he has to find Gaila somewhere in the mess of Engineering. The  _ Enterprise _ is her baby now.


	7. Chapter 7

Jim finds her inside of a console, legs sticking out and nearly tripping passerbys. “Gaila?”

 

“Yeah, Jim?”

 

“Can I talk to you for a sec?”

 

She sighs, but worms her way out of the wiring. “Am I talking to my brother or my Captain?”

 

“Captain, unfortunately.”

 

She smiles at him, shaking her head. “Then what can I do for you, Cap?”

 

“You’re getting a promotion, lieutenant. Chief Engineer.”

 

Her smile slips a little, torn between excitement and confusion. “Scotty?”

 

“Quit.”

 

They just grimace at each other for a moment before Gaila caves. “Okay. I’ll take care of our girl, sir.”

 

“I know you will. And… Gaila?” Jim crouches down to the floor with her, dropping his voice to nearly a whisper. “I have a real bad feeling about this one, okay?”

 

Her voice drops to matches his. “What’s going on, Jim?”

 

“Nothing good. Just… follow orders, and keep us flying. I have a plan.”

 

“A good plan?”

 

“More of an outline.”

 

She chuckles, and he can’t help but laugh with her. “Well, I trust you, Jim. You’ll get us home.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


When Number One opens her eyes, it is to Winona Kirk of all people standing over her.

 

“Yes, you almost died. Your husband is furious, the twins are fine, and Jimmy’s on the warpath. Oh, and I currently have Chris on an errand, which is why I’m the one keeping you company. Any questions?”

 

Number One stares at Kirk in silence for a beat longer. Then, “What warpath?”

 

“Everyone thinks you’re dead and Jim took it personal. I should tell him you’re alive.”

 

“That would be wise.”

 

“Yeah… I’ll go tell him.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


Winona:

I know what you’re doing, kid. Knock it off now, she’s alive.

 

Jim:

I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mom.

 

Winona:

Number One is alive, James.

Whatever Marcus told you to do,  _ don’t _ .

 

Jim:

She’s really okay?

 

Winona:

She’s indestructible. Didn’t you know?

 

Jim:

Thank you for telling me.

I gotta take care of some stuff now.

 

Winona:

That’s what I thought.

  
  


*.*

  
  


“Captain on the bridge.” Chekov announces as Jim makes his way to his chair. Rather than sitting, he turns and walks over to Spock.

 

“New plan.” Jim opens his mind and  _ pushes _ , thoughts of capturing the man alive, of a proper trial. Of real justice, not just petty vengeance.

 

“This plan is a vast improvement, sir.” Which is Spock speak for nearly crying in relief.

 

Jim smiles. “I’ll brief the crew. Mr. Sulu?”

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

“Take us out. Mr. Chekov, plot a course for Kronos.” Every head on the bridge snaps around to look at him. He’s got their full attention. Good. “Uhura, how’s your Klingon?”

 

“It’s rusty, but it’s good.”

 

“Awesome. You have a few hours to brush up.” He can feel the anticipation in the room. No one but him and Spock actually know what they’re about to do, and Jim can feel the curiosity of his bridge crew nearly burning him. “We’re going to apprehend a terrorist, folks. I want him alive. And if anyone so much as irritates a Klingon when we’re on the planet, I will not be happy.”

 

It’s time to get to work.

  
  


*.*

  
  


The pile of information Winona dumped on Chris was, to put it frankly, a shit storm. If all of this proves correct, which he doesn’t doubt it will, Admiral Marcus has been pushing the Federation towards war with the Klingons for decades. Since his Captaincy, most likely.

 

He remembers Jim, a few hours ago, leaving the hospital suddenly on orders. Spock, leaving shortly after with the same excuse. According to the official database, the Enterprise is on a routine patrol. Obviously bullshit. They just landed, they wouldn’t take off again so soon unless…

 

Unless…

 

Pike needs to make a few calls.

 

He just hopes that whatever Marcus put Jim up to, the kid is smart enough to work his way out of it. Because unless Kirk treads very,  _ very  _ carefully, war just might be inevitable.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Apparently Jim’s reputation precedes him. They stumble upon a Klingon patrol and after an introduction from him and some sweet talking from Uhura, they get some extra muscle on their quest to apprehend Harrison.

 

Which they do.

 

Sure, a few people walk away with some nasty looking bruises, but the job gets done.

The Klingons definitely helped there. Apparently the Harrison’s lack of honor disgusts them. Jim thinks they might be growing on him.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Apparently Harrison’s name isn’t Harrison after all. It’s  _ Khan.  _ The man’s name is Khan Noonien Singh, as he helpfully informs them from the brig.

 

And Jim can feel the tragic backstory coming here, he really can. The air practically reeks of monologue as Bones starts checking the guys vitals. The smart thing to do here would be to keep his trap shut, let Harrison (no, not Harrison,  _ Khan _ ) speak. 

 

Villain monologues are the best, after all.

 

But Jim can’t help it. The moment Khan tells them his name, it just… falls out.

 

“If your name is Khan, then why are you white?”

 

Bones turns into a human statue for a heartbeat before turning on his heels and barking without a hint of irony, “Oh my God, Jim, you can’t just ask people why they’re white!”

 

There’s a beat where nobody speaks, where there’s only him, and Bones, and Khan, and Spock. Then, he feels it. The little tickle of repressed laughter filtering through his bond.

 

Jim loves Bones. The doctor doesn’t know it, but he just made a Vulcan laugh. Or maybe he does know— he’s looking pretty smug under that scowl of his.

 

But the real kicker happens when Khan pulls his arm back through the hole in the glass and sighs, “It really isn’t very fetch of you, Captain.”

 

A small snort of laughter escapes before Jim can stop it. And he can never prove it, but Spock’s exhale was definitely a little louder than normal. This day is just getting weirder and weirder.

 

“Alright, Khan. Start talking.”

 

And he does.

  
Holy  _ fuck _ he does.


	8. Chapter 8

So long story short, Marcus is an asshole. A self-righteous asshole who decided to thaw out a homicidal maniac from the late-twentieth-early-twenty-first century to use as some sort of military thinking machine (because  _ that  _ makes sense). A damn stupid asshole who then decided he would use said maniac’s crew as leverage for full cooperation.

 

As a Captain himself, JIm understands why Khan is pissed.

 

Frankly, Jim would be more worried if Khan  _ hadn’t _ tried to kill Marcus after that little stunt.

 

What’s eve more concerning is the guy’s insistence that Jim just opens up a random torpedoe. With no schematics. Or prep time.

 

Good thing he knows the man with the steadiest hands in the ‘Fleet. And they just got a shiny new weapons specialist.

 

He comms Bones and Wallace then heads for the hangar bay.

  
  


*.*

  
  


“Jim, you can’t honestly expect me to go and open one of those torpedoes.” Len finds him in the hallway on the way to the hangar and immediately tears into a rant.

 

“The thing is, Bones, I can. One of the perks of being your Captain.” Kirk flashes him a slightly manic smile and nearly runs straight into a ensign, almost knocking the boy over.

 

“Sorry, sir.”

 

And he is a boy, too. He’s clearly a teenager, no older than Chekov was when they first got the ship. He’s on the shorter end, though (Jim feels the kid’s pain there), and frankly, looks a little star-struck. Huh. “You okay, there, Ensign…?”

 

“Riley, sir. Um… Kevin, sir.” Some sort of bell goes off in Jim’s head but he can’t quite place it. “I’m okay, sir.”

 

“Alright.” Jim smiles reassuringly at the him and then goes to continue on his way when the kid speaks up again.

 

“Actually, Captain, if I could talk to you for a moment?”

 

Riley’s posture is going tense, he’s clearly afraid of something, Jim's not sure what. And that little bell of recognition is still going off in his head he just can’t quite place it, and-—

 

“Captain!” Carol rounds the corner and immediately shouts. “I need a word with you before Dr. McCoy and I—”

 

And his comm decides to chime at exactly that same moment and Jim’s having a rough day, he really is. So he just kind of… snaps. “Everyone, just shut up!”

 

The three people in front of him freeze. Riley with terror, Wallace looking like she's going to start talking again any second, and Bones really seems on the verge of punching Jim in the face.

 

“Okay. Show of hands— who needs to talk to me?” Three hands bolt up. “Okay. Now, which of these conversations are relevant to the mission at hand?” Carol and Kevin slowly lower their arms. “Wonderful. Because right now, I’ve got seventy-three problems, seventy- _ two _ of which are  _ torpedoes.  _ The other is some white guy named Khan who may or may not be an actual, real-life super villain. I’m honestly not sure. Still working on figuring that one out. So if anyone here has something to say that is  _ relevant  _ to the current clusterfuck, I’m all ears. Otherwise, it can wait.”

 

Without waiting for a response, Jim turns and starts stalking towards the hangar again, Bones hot on his heels muttering something about being a  _ doctor, damn it, not a torpedo technician. _ Or something.

  
  


*.*

  
  


When Jim storms away, Carol turns to the kid standing next to her. “So what did you want to talk to him about?”

 

Kevin shifts uncomfortably, “We knew each other when we were kids. He, uh… he saved my life. But I don’t think he remembers me.”

 

Carol nods sagely. “I don’t think he remembers me either.”

 

Kevin worries his lower lip. “What did you need to talk to him about?”

 

“He’s my babydaddy and doesn’t know.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.” They stand in silence for a moment longer before Carol shakes herself. “I have to go. But, um, nice to meet you kid.” She goes to leave, but adds at the last minute. “I’m sure he remembers you, though. He’s a good man, just has a lot going on.”

 

Kevin’s smile becomes a lot easier. “Thank you, Miss.”

  
  


*.*

 

So, long story short, there’s a person in the torpedo. And if Khan is to be believed there are people in  _ all  _ of the torpedoes. 

 

Which, can Jim just stop for a minute and say how interesting  _ that  _ conversation was? Because that monologue he sensed earlier finally happened and it was gloriously dramatic. Real, quality super villain tragic backstory stuff. With crying and everything.

 

It was awesome.

 

But that aside, he has coordinates he needs to check out but _The_ _Enterprise_ is only on impulse for at least another hour. (With Gaila still not sure what caused her to stall out anyway).

 

Khan gives Jim these coordinates, which would be awesome (like, James Bond awesome), except for the fact that, well, they’re stalled on the edge of the Neutral Zone, which is the opposite of helpful when one needs to get somewhere.

 

Luckily, he knows a certain Scotsman who’ll be mighty pissed that someone sabotaged the Enterprise. Maybe even enough to get over Jim’s accepting his resignation and go check out a potentially shady situation in the middle of space.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Scotty calls him Mr. Perfect Hair, a little drunk and mostly hurt, but agrees to take a look. That’s enough for Jim.

  
  


*.*

  
  


The blonde woman that steps neatly in front of his shuttle is familiar in a way that Scotty can’t put his finger on.

 

“Mr. Scott,” she greets, hands on her hips. “I trust my son’s called you?”

 

“Er…”

 

“I’m Jim’s progenitor,” she says, smirking, and— oh. Yeah, that expression is Jim, right there.

 

“Yes, ma’am.” Scotty blinks. “Commander?”

 

She waves a dismissive hand.

 

“No, none of that,” she says. “Not on this mission.”

 

“Mission?”

 

“Oh, most definitely. Jim gave you something, right? Codes, or something?”

 

“Coordinates,” Scotty says.

 

“Perfect.” Mrs. Kirk slaps him on the back. “Welcome to Section 31, Mr. Scott. We’re gonna go take down a crazy guy.”

 

Kirk say  _ what? _

 

“Ma’am, not to be forward, but I don’t want to be Section 31,” Scotty says as she leads him into the shuttle.

 

“Nobody ever does,” she says. “But for the sake of your career if we fuck up, we’re just gonna go ahead and call you an agent. That way you’re not spaced if Marcus wins.”

 

“Marcus?  _ Admiral _ Marcus?”

 

“You’re funny,” Mrs. Kirk remarks. “I see why Jim likes you. Now, plug in those coordinates and get going. We’ve got a busy day today.”

 

Scotty listens, but he isn’t sure if that’s because he can hear Jim in her voice, because he understands the gravity of the situation, or if he’s just plain scared of this tiny, smiling woman that looks like Jim without actually sharing any physical features. Regardless, he does the thing, sits back, and prays that he doesn’t die. Because Mrs. Kirk? Mrs. Kirk seems like she could kill him.

 

He can see where Jim gets it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to harass the writers? Have our Tumblrs.  
> [not-freyja](https://not-freyja.tumblr.com) and [straight-outta-hobbiton](https://straight-outta-hobbiton.tumblr.com)


	9. Chapter 9

The ship is black, which is Jim’s first clue that all is not well, because Jim watches movies, and you know what movies say about black modes of transportation? About what kind of people that become the captains of black ships? Villains. Villains are the people at the helms of black ships.

 

When Admiral Marcus’ face fills the screen, he wishes he could say he’s surprised, except he’s so totally not it’s laughable. Actually, he does laugh, full and bright and ridiculous in the face of one confused old guy.

 

“Let me guess,” he says, wiping away tears of mirth. “It was you that fucked my engines, right? No, don’t lie— I know. Jesus, how is this my life, Spock?”

 

Spock arches an eyebrow.

 

“You are a statistical variable, Captain,” Spock says, serene.

 

“You say the sweetest things,” Jim says, humor leaving him as he fixes flat blue eyes on Admiral Marcus. “You want to start a war with the Klingons.”

 

“See, that’s where you’ve got it wrong, Kirk,” Marcus says. “War with the Klingons is inevitable, and unless we do something, the Federation will be caught off guard. Can you imagine it, Kirk? Earth under a Klingon flag, billions dead because we were too soft? No, I’m not starting a war. The war’s already begun— this is just a preemptive strike.”

 

“... That sentence made no sense, Admiral,” Jim says after a moment. “If the war’s already begun, it’s not a preemptive strike. And if it’s a preemptive strike, they haven’t attacked us yet.”

 

There’s a vein throbbing in Marcus’ temple. Wait for it…

 

“You little shit!” There it is. “The Klingons have been attacking us for as long as we’ve been patrolling the Neutral Zone. All they need is an opening, and the Federation will come crashing down around our ears—”

 

“Then we probably shouldn’t give them a reason to attack before we’re ready!”

 

Marcus freezes.

 

“Carol? What are you doing here?”

 

“Carol, stand down,” Jim orders, but Carol is unmoved, jaw and fists clenched with a fury that’s… kinda hot, in a she-can-definitely-kill-me sort of way.

 

“Jim, that is my father,” she says. “And he has  _ clearly  _ gone mad.”

 

Her… father? But… Jim glances at Spock. He’s just as clueless as Jim is. Still, this could be a good thing. Family bonds can be pretty strong, after all, and Jim? He’s not getting into the middle of a fight between two weapons specialists, he’s just not.

 

“... Proceed,” he says, sitting back.

 

She does.

 

“By attacking the Klingon homeworld you only leave us vulnerable to attack,” she says. “I’ve seen your projects, Father, you forget— even if we took every weapon currently available to us, we would be no match for a full-scale war against a warrior people. By doing this, you take away any chance we have at survival!”

 

“Sweetheart, you haven’t even seen the tip of the iceberg. We’ll win, once the ‘fleet can get itself together.” Marcus turns his attention back Kirk. “Unfortunately, for that to happen, you and your crew needs to die, Kirk. Sorry about that.”

 

“Wait!” Jim pushes himself to his feet. “My crew, they were just following my orders. I’ll take their place. And I’ll throw in Khan too, since I figure you’re mighty pissed I didn’t kill him on sight.”

 

“Why bother?” Marcus sits back. “He’s already on your ship. I blow you all to smithereens, I get him too.”

 

“And me.” Carol steps forward. “You blow this ship, you kill me, too.”

 

Marcus pauses, as though he’d forgotten about her presence. Then he sighs.

 

“You won’t consider letting me beam you aboard?” he asks.

 

“Not on your life.”

 

Marcus shakes his head.

 

“You were always stubborn,” he says. “That’s alright. You’ll understand soon enough.”

 

The sound of a transporter beam fills the bridge. Jim feels more than sees the energy wrap around Carol’s form, beaming her away as if Marcus has had the ability to do so the entire time.

 

Well, shit. Now it’s a hostage situation on top of everything else.

 

“Admiral—”

 

“Now, Jimmy, we all know what you’re going to say.” Marcus sounds indulgent. “It’s very noble, the way you want to save your crew. It makes you a good captain. But sometimes, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Didn’t your husband teach you that?”

 

Rage floods the bond, but Jim does his best to ignore it, because Marcus is still talking. Well, Jim’s not paying attention to that either, actually. He’s paying attention to the little green box that’s appeared at the bottom of the viewscreen, and the words forming inside it.

 

_ Hey there, kiddo,  _ the text reads. _ Do me a favor and ask him if it’s true he likes getting fisted. I’ve always wanted to know, but wasn’t important enough to ask. _

 

Jim chokes. Not an image he wanted in his head.

 

“Kirk, don’t tell me you’re going to cry on me.” Marcus smirks. “It’s unbecoming of a man of your station.”

 

Jim takes a deep breath.

 

“No, sir,” he says, fighting to keep himself from laughing or gagging or both. “Please, continue.”

 

_ Come on, kiddo, ask him. Do it for Mommy, please? _

 

_ James, is that…? _ Spock trails off, uncertain.

 

_ Mommy’s on the Vengeance,  _ Jim answers. _ Mommy’s on the Vengeance, so we’ve got a chance. _

 

“Admiral Marcus, I’ve got a question,” he chirps, straightening. “Just for my own peace of mind— I mean, since you’re planning on killing me anyway…”

 

“What is it, Kirk?”

 

“Well…” Jim scuffs his shoe on the floor. “I was wondering… is it true that you like getting fisted?”

 

_ You are the best child a mother could ever have. _

 

Marcus splutters, face going red.

 

“Excuse me?” he hisses.

 

“I was just curious,” Jim says. “You know ship scuttlebutt always gets back to the captains eventually. So, I ask again: Do you like getting fisted? Because personally I was never that into the concept— it’s a lot of prep work, you know? Lotta stretching and lube... But hey, kinks are kinks. I’m not one to judge, if that’s what gets you going…”

 

“That’s it, you’re dead,” Marcus says, getting his breath back and straightening. “I’d say it was a pleasure knowing you, Kirk, but…”

 

_ Bitch, please,  _ the text says underneath.

 

He pushes a button. He definitely does. That is a button-pushing motion, but nothing happens. For about three seconds, there’s absolute silence, then, a jaunty little acoustic guitar starts playing.

 

_ “I wanna fuck a dog in the ass, he wants to fuck a dog in the ass, I wanna fuck a dog…” _

 

It’s moments like these that Jim remembers exactly how much he loves his mother.

 

Marcus can clearly hear it too, but when he tries to talk, it’s clear he’s been muted.

 

_ He can still hear you, if you’ve got anything to say. _

 

“And on that note, Admiral, I best be off!” Jim says, waving. “Gotta stop this whole, evil plan to start an unnecessary war thing, you know? Well, have a nice day, and like I said— I don’t judge people, whatever their bedroom politics.”

 

Uhura cuts the comm. There’s a moment’s pause, then a wave of nervous laughter, some of it bordering on hysterical.

 

“I hope you recorded all that,” he says to Uhura. “I need it. For posterity.”

 

“I did.” Uhura’s the picture of professionalism. “Captain, was that… that was your mother, right?”

 

“Yep.” Jim pops his lips. “She’s got a terrible sense of humor when she’s stressed.”

 

“Do you have a plan, Jim?” Spock asks, stepping a little too close.

 

That sobers Jim up.

 

“Yeah,” he says, mouth hardening. “But you’re not going to like it.”

 

“I rarely enjoy your plans.”

 

“Yeah, well… I’m gonna need Khan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, how we missed Winona. Did you guys miss her too?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cue the imperial march*

“Ma’am, that was…”

 

“Yes, Mr. Scott, it was.” Mrs. Kirk— or Winona, as she insists he calls her— grins. “Every adjective you’re thinking? It applies.”

 

“... Are you single?”

 

Winona huffs a laugh.

 

“No,” she says. “Though you’re a little short for my taste, even if I was.”

 

“Hey, I can buy stilts if that’s all you need.”

 

Winona rolls her eyes. Yeah, he’s an engineer.

 

“Have you called my son yet?”

 

Scotty nods.

 

“He’ll be fine,” he says, more to comfort himself than her. “It’s Jim, he’s always been a lucky bastard when it comes to crap like this. Can’t win a hand at poker to save his life, but throwing himself through space with only a space suit saving him from the vacuum of the black? He’ll be fine.”

 

He’s rambling. He knows he’s rambling, but he can’t help it. He just keeps thinking about how there’s a very good chance Jim’s going to miss his mark.

  


*.*

  


Jim, miraculously, does not miss his mark. Neither does Khan, and they barrel through the airlock into to relative safety of _The Vengeance._ Relative to the void of space with a cracked helmet, that is.

 

“That better not be who I think it is.”

 

And Winona has her lecture voice on. Fan- _freaking_ -tastic. “Khan: Scotty, Winona. Mommy, Scotty: Khan.”

 

“Nice to meet you.”

 

“What the hell is a white guy doing with a name like Khan?”

 

Khan levels Jim a flat look. “I see the resemblance.”

 

Jim gives him his sunniest smile.

 

“Let’s get cracking, shall we?”

  


*.*

  


A rather stressful firefight later, and the bridge crew is down, Marcus is dead (and that may have been the most fucked up thing Jim has ever seen, which is a _statement_ ), Carol’s leg is broken, Jim is being held at phaser point, and Scotty and Winona both know neither of them would be able to move fast enough to keep Jim alive.

 

And _The Enterprise_ is hailed, and Spock’s on the screen, being beautiful and acting oh-so calm, and if Jim didn’t currently have a phaser in his face (and happened to be on another ship) he could kiss him.

  


*.*

  


So all of Jim’s people end up back on the enterprise, and everything should be okay now. But then the explosions start.

 

Just when everything was starting to look up, too.

 

The medical staff rushes to assist Carol while Winona runs off to the engines, Jim and Scotty hot on her heels. Scotty, because while he technically _isn’t_ a part of engineering at the moment, this is is baby. Winona likes to be in the middle of messes, and JIm… well, _everyone else is doing it._

 

_Give him hell, Spock. I’ll help keep our girl flying._

 

_As you wish._

 

Has Jim mentioned how awesome his husband is?

  


*.*

  


Long, complicated technobabble short, someone has to go inside the warp core and hit it with a hammer.

 

Winona’s up in some tube somewhere, holding life support with duct-tape and magic. As she does. Gaila has been sent on an oh-so important mission to flip a magic switch. Which is good. Because Jim knows for a fact that there is no way in hell that his sister would let him go ahead with this suicide mission.

 

Unfortunately for Scotty, the only way to get him out of the way is a swift right hook.

 

Jim buckels him in though. He’s not a _total_ dick.

  


*.*

  


Spock is not prepared for the sudden bolt of pain and fear that radiated out from their bond. It catches him so of guard he actually flinches in the chair.

 

_What has happened, James?_

 

_Radiation is not as fun as the little yellow sign makes it look._

 

_Clarify._

 

_Yellow is a happy color, you know? It's all bright and sunshiny._

 

It takes all of Spock’s willpower to remain in the chair. _Not your color association, Jim._

 

_I’m in the warp core._

 

Five little words. That’s all it takes. Five small, individually insignificant words, not even spoken aloud and Spock’s entire universe shatters. For not even Jim’s frankly alarming luck will prevent the inevitable this time.

 

The moment the ship is out of danger, Spock is running for the engine room. He gets there to find a crowd already forming around the access door. Gaila and Nyota both appear to be in shock, tears starting to spill over their lashes. Mr. Scott appears lost, possibly unsure as to what he should be doing at the moment. Mrs. Kirk, to be blunt, does not seem to be paying attention. Sure, he eyes are on Jim through the glass, but they are unfocused. She is either in shock as well, or lost in thought.

 

Spock does not possess the vocabulary in any language he knows to explain his current state of mind. All he knows is that he _must_ get to Jim. The pain coming through the bond is nearly unbearable now. It is a harsh edge in his mind, radiating outwards through his whole body. He knows that Jim is feeling ten times more than this, but as their eyes met, his bondmate some how finds the strength to _smile._

 

“How’s the ship?”

 

Spock sinks to the floor, body against the glass. This is as close as he can get but it’s not enough, it’s not nearly enough. “Out of danger.”

 

And he can feel James’ relief for his crew, for his family, for _Spock himself,_ and it’s almost too much. He wants to run from it, to throw his walls up because he can feel his control slipping but he can’t. Jim is… he want’s every last thought he can get.

 

“Nice work, by the way. With the torpedoes.”

 

“It is what you would have done.”

 

“And this is what you would have done.”

 

Which is true. Spock would have taken Jim’s fate in an instant. They both know it. But to wish for what can not be is illogical.

 

_Screw logic._ “I’m scared, Spock.” Jim pauses to pant for breath. “Help me not to be.”

 

Yet Spock, he’s scared as well. More scared than he’s ever been in his life. He’s always known he would outlive Jim, but he thought he had more time. That _they_ had more time. So he does the only thing he can think of. He presses his hand to the glass and opens his mind as wide as he can, tugging on the bond and pulling Jim to him. It’s the closest to a meld he can accomplish without contact. Frankly it is inefficient, but it is the best that can be done.

 

Jim lifts his hand to mirror his and tugs back. Reality falls away, and it’s just their minds, linked together, neurons firing as one.

 

_I love you. Fuck, I love you._

 

_Ta’lukh nas-veh k’dular, t’hy’la._ Jim’s mind is slipping, Spock can feel it. He wants with every fiber of his being to try to hold him as long as he can, but he knows it won’t work.

 

_It’s okay, Spock. Ashayam, you can let me go._

 

Spock’s Katra is aching.

 

_Promise me something? Don’t… don’t forget what I taught you. It’s… it’s okay to feel, to hurt… You don’t always have to be the perfect Vulcan._

 

_As you wish._

 

And Jim, his mind glows with love and laughter and it’s like the first time, when they were children. _Maybe… maybe ‘as you wish’ can be our always._

 

Spock can feel the sob tear through his frame, but he does not care, it does not matter. Nothing matters but Jim.

 

And then he’s gone.

 

The presence that has been in Spock’s mind since he was seven years old is just… gone. For the first time that he can clearly remember, he is alone in his own mind.

 

The bond snaps. The pain is indescribable, incomparable. But through it all, the rage rises.

  
Khan will die for this.


	11. Chapter 11

Winona does not know if, in his final moments, Jim’s life flashed before his eyes. But she knows it flashed before hers.

 

The first day of his life was the without a doubt the worst of hers. And she tried not to blame him for it, she really did. She never left him behind, never brushed him aside, but there was no denying she was always closer to Sam.

 

And the older Jimmy got, the harder it got. She let him get sent to Tarsus, was sickly relieved to have him out of her hair. What happened to him there, it was at least partly on her.

 

She tried. She tried  _ so damn hard,  _ but in the end… she could have done better. Because the fact of the matter is, by trying to run from from the ghost of George, she missed so much. Jim built an entire found family without her in it.

 

Her baby just  _ died. In front of her.  _ And she didn’t say a word.

 

Not one goddamn word.

 

She didn’t even cry.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Spock starts screaming and Gaila knows it’s over.

 

Her brother, her best friend, the first person in the entire universe to ever love her is gone. 

 

Frankly, she doesn’t know how Jim made it through the mission on Vulcan when he thought she was dead. Because this is… 

 

They’re lucky Scotty’s back, because she can’t do this. She just can’t.

 

She has never thought about a world without Jim. Yeah, there was always the jokes, the near-misses, but Jim’s lucky. Jim’s smart. Jim is indestructible.

 

He survived  _ Tarsus. _ He survived a crazy Romulan out for his blood  _ specifically. _ Twice. He survived his mile long list of allergies (that definitely should have killed him years ago, with the way he eats), juvie, big boy jail, cross country travel, interplanetary travel, the Water Main Incident, Winona’s parenting… the list goes on.

 

And yet, here she is, without her big brother for the first time since he crawled into Medbay via a ventilation shaft and asked her to come along.

 

She needs Daddy. She needs to  _ tell _ Daddy. She needs to tell Sam— oh God,  _ Sam. _ The complexities of that particular relationship still escapes her, but Sam lost Sybok not two years ago. She doesn’t know he’d handle losing Jim, but the fallout? It’s gonna be bad. Kirks may be a strange lot, but family’s family, and that doesn’t change just because Sam’s got the common sense not to get stuck in the Jim Kirk quicksand.

 

Looks like none of them are in it now.

 

When she was in her escape pod, before the Vulcans picked her up after the Narada tore her ship to pieces, she told herself it was a dream. There was no way she was actually floating through space with a limited air supply and no hope of rescue. She told herself to appreciate the view while she could, before she was woken up by a shitty alarm and an eight am class.

 

She forces herself to focus on her station and tells herself those things again.

 

Yeah. It didn’t work last time, either.

  
  
  
  


*.*

  
  


Pike has never had Jim ignore his calls before. Reject them, maybe, but Jim’s always made a point to send along a message explaining that he can’t talk right now, he’s in the middle of stopping a land war in Asia, or whatever stupid thing he decided to send.

 

Considering the things Pike knows and the things Jim needs to know, he assumes the worst.

 

So he does the logical thing, and he calls Winona.

 

“Jim didn’t pick up,” he says the moment Winona’s face pops up on his screen. She looks… she looks like she did when George died.

 

“Yeah,” she agrees. “It’s hard to answer calls when you’re lying on a slab.”

 

Chris feels the bottom of his stomach open up.

 

“He’s— he’s not actually—”

 

“He’s dead,” Winona says, brutal and raw and just as vicious as the last time. “My kid’s dead, Chris.”

 

And yeah, Winona may not have been the best parent in the world, but Jim was still her son. Jim was… Jim was what she had when George wasn’t there anymore, and no matter how hard those first few years were, no matter how hard it’s been since Jim grew into his looks and turned into her late husband’s clone, she still loved him. Still loves him. How does one conjugate? Chris doesn’t know right now. Get back to him on that.

 

She hangs up on him when he doesn’t answer, and Chris, unsure of what else to do, sets the comm down on the table.

 

“Chris? What is going on?” Number One appears from around the corner. She’s an asshole, like Jim is, so she escaped the hospital about an hour ago, heading for home and her children and him.

 

Chris is so… he doesn’t know how to stop the words, to soften the blow. It just tumbles out of his mouth, each word heavy as lead.

 

“Winona says Jim’s dead.”

 

Number One blinks.

 

“He is not,” she says simply. “He can’t be.”

 

“Winona says he’s on the slab,” Chris says. “Number One, Jim’s dead.”

 

“He is not,” she repeats. “He has survived worse than an uppity mutant from the wrong century.”

 

Chris doesn’t say anything. He knows what he saw on Winona’s face, heard in her voice. He is dead, and it’s fucking over. Everything.

 

(Sidenote? Chris was not aware that this much of his life was steeped in Jim’s wellbeing. This is not the way he wanted to find out this fact, but life’s just not that fucking fair when it comes to Starfleet officers.)

 

Number One settles into the couch beside him.

 

“Winona has made a mistake, Chris,” she says. “You will see. The Enterprise will return, and Jim will toddle off the ship with the biggest, brightest grin on his face, held up by sheer force of will and his doctor and Spock. That Harrison man is probably already floating in the vacuum right now, believe me, and Jim? Jim’s the one who put him there.”

 

Chris doesn’t argue with her. In fact, for a moment he lets himself believe.

 

Believing, however, is rarely enough for people who aren’t Jim.

 

And that’s when the explosions start.

  
  


*.*

  
  


If he wasn’t dead already, Bones would kill him.

 

Leonard has put far too much work into this kid to watch him die now. Yet that is what he does. And his heart fucking  _ shatters. _

 

Spock runs off, probably to commit murder, leaving Leonard with the body. He declares his best friend dead, and has never hated his job more. Sure, he always knew he would have to do it one day, but not this soon. Jim’s still a kid.  _ Was  _ a kid. 

 

Fuck.

 

The last place he wants to be right now is following the  _ lead  _ body bag down the hall, but there he is. Because it’s his job.

 

(And can Bones talk about how messed up that body bag is? It’s lined with lead. Fucking  _ lead! _ Because leave it to Jim to die in such a way that his corpse is a biohazard.)

 

Fuck his life, really.

 

He goes through the motions, filing the paperwork that makes Jim officially dead. And then he fixes the kid’s hair, cleans up the cut on his cheek, and places a kiss on his forehead.

 

“Goodnight, Jim.”

 

There’s no answer, of course.

 

Bones collapses into the nearest chair, the absolute  _ wrongness  _ of a universe without Jim Kirk in it wash over him. He’s never going to hear his voice again, never make him laugh. Never will he have to fight the urge to punch the little shit in the face.

 

How is he going to tell Jo?

 

It’s right before the sobbing starts that he sees the tribble move.

 

The  _ dead _ tribble.

 

The dead tribble that he injected with Khan’s super-blood.

  
He has to stop Spock.


	12. Chapter 12

Khan puts up a fight. He really does. But Spock is almost as strong as he is, and if far angrier. So in the end, it’s not even a fair fight.

 

Spock’s about to snap his neck with a jolt goes through him. His vision blurs, but his hand stay steady. There’s a voice yelling at him, but it’s far away. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but making this man pay for taking Jim.

 

Another jolt passes through him, and the world fades to black.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Yeah, Winona stunned her son-in-law.

 

See, what had happened was Bones realized somehow that he could save Jim. He commed the bridge, which commed her, and she was beamed down to stop Spock from ripping Khan’s head off.

 

Should have been easy enough. Yet, in her entire life of pissing people off, Winona has never seen someone so angry. Really, she needs to work on her game— or maybe not. Vulcans, apparently, can take a murderous rampage and go to the next level. What’s the next level of murderous rampage? Deluxe murderous rampage? Well, whatever, it doesn’t matter right now.

 

It took two shots to bring him down.

 

She hopes that doesn’t cause any lasting damage. She likes the boy— just not enough to put his health above her son’s life.

 

Huh. Looks like she is starting to get the hang of this mom thing after all. 

 

There’s nothing quite like death to make you reevaluate your priorities.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Spock wakes up strapped to a biobed. He’s in medbay, on  _ The Enterprise.  _ That much he knows. What he doe  _ not  _ know, however, is how he got there. He remembers Jim dying, and then it’s all a little… blurred.

 

He may have black out.

 

Fascinating.

 

His head is pounding. A mix of psi-trauma and something else.

 

“Mommy shot you.” 

 

Gaila’s voice. He turns his head to see her sitting stiffly in a chair next to his bed.

 

“Don’t freak out.”

 

He quirks an eyebrow. “Gaila, I doubt there is anything you could say to me that, considering the events of the past twenty-four hours, would cause me to ‘freak out.’”

 

“Jim’s only mostly dead.”

 

What little rationale brain function Spock has available to himself shots out.

 

“It’s a long story, full of complicated medical science I don’t fully understand, but Bones says he can save him. Probably.”

 

Something insidiously like hope sparks in his chest. “How?”

 

“Um… something to do with Khan’s plasma or blood cells or something? Jim’s  _ literally  _ on ice right now while the Doc figures it out.”

 

“Where is Khan?”

 

“He’s a heavily sedated blood bag. In the isolation room.” Gaila offers a hesitant smile. “Bones can do this.”

 

“Why am I restrained?”

 

“Vulcan rage is  _ scary, _ man.” She shakes her head. “The crew’s never gonna bitch about your control thing again, after that shit show. Well, except Len— but he’s almost as crazy as Jim is, though, so I don’t think he counts.”

 

Spock arches an eyebrow and settles more comfortably back onto the bed.

 

“So, what now?”

 

Gaila shrugs.

 

“How about a movie?”

  
  


*.*

 

Chris has been doing damage control for almost twenty fours hours straight by the time he finally gets home. A starship crashing into a city doesn’t just create massive damage, it generates a lot of paperwork. He wheels himself into the living room, pulls himself onto the couch, and just goes limp.

 

“Three is still having difficulty sleeping through the night.”

 

“That’s because Bee kicks him.”

 

“Number Two does no such thing.” One sits beside him and suddenly turns smug. “While you were working, I spoke with Doctor McCoy.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“I was correct. Jim will get better.”

 

Chris’ eyes snap open. “What?”

 

She looks so smug, damn her. “When will you learn, Christopher? I am always right.”

 

“But he’s dead!”

 

“Do you not wish him to recover?”

 

He splutters. “Of course I do, it’s just…  _ how? _ ”

 

Number One purses her lips. “That I do not know.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


Fortunately, their house was spared the damage from the collision. Spock and Bones go to the hospital with the still technically deceased Jim, but the rest of the gang piles through the doors of the house to find Sarek, T’Pring, and Ben already waiting.

 

Sulu teleports into Ben’s arms and the two of them head off to the living room.

 

Chekov heads up to his room, muttering under his breath something about needing a year long nap.

 

Uhura and T’Pring disappear a moment after, and the second he is briefed on the situation, Sarek heads out, presumably to the hospital to find his son.

 

Which leaves Scotty. Alone. In Jim’s kitchen. With Jim’s sister.

 

“You did good today, lassie.”

 

She beams at him. “You too, old man.”

 

Their comms chime in unison, but before either of them can check, Chekov screams from upstairs, “His heart’s started!”

 

A cheer rings out, and before Scotty can even register what’s happening, Gaila’s kissing him. It’s not a sexual kiss. It’s more of a celebratory, happy-new-year kind of kiss. It doesn’t mean anything.

 

It doesn’t.

 

“I’m heading over there,” she declares, and then she’s gone. Bolting out the door faster than Scott can blink.

  
  


*.*

  
  


“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Hikaru declares, lounged across Ben’s lap.

 

“That’s dangerous.”

 

He shoots his husband a glare. “I think we should have a kid.”

 

Ben laughs. “You really need to stop making life decisions immediately post near-death experiences.”

 

“Is that a no?”

 

“No, it’s a  _ I married a crazy person. _ ”

 

“So is that a yes?”

 

Ben shrugs. “I’ll call my sister. She’ll probably agree to be our surrogate.”

 

Sulu grins. “And you say I’m the crazy one.”

 

“Because you  _ are. _ ”

  
  


*.*

  
  


That transfusion was the most stressful medical procedure of Bone’s entire life.

 

But Jim’s autonomic systems are coming back online. Which is beyond awesome. He can now add Reanimator to his resume. Now all he has to do is make sure it sticks. And wake the kid up from the apparent coma he’s come back to life into.

 

Oh, and hope it’s still  _ actually  _ Jim in there instead of some full-on system reboot.

 

Yeah… Bones isn’t panicking. Not at all.

 

But he tells Spock the good news, sends out the group message, then gets back to work.

  
Miracles don’t just  _ happen. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We told you he'd get better. So did Number One.  
> Questions? Concerns? Have our Tumblrs:  
> [not-freyja](https://not-freyja.tumblr.com) and [straight-outta-hobbiton](https://straight-outta-hobbiton.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> The playlist for this fic can be found [here.](https://8tracks.com/starhobbit/73-problems-72-of-which-are-torpedoes#smart_id=dj:16203706&play=1)
> 
> Follow [not-freyja](https://not-freyja.tumblr.com) and [straight-outta-hobbiton](https://straight-outta-hobbiton.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.


End file.
